Book 5: Demise
by aylithe
Summary: Sequel to my Book Four: Empire. Eight years have passed since the death of Galbatorix and the land has returned to relative peace. But the time of Dragon Riders has passed; Galbatorix's legacy has left deep scars in people's minds, and scars that won't ever heal. Alagaësia does not want Dragon Riders anymore. Side project.
1. Author's Note

Direct sequel to my Book Four, _Empire_. If you haven't read it, then please read that first, as nothing will make sense in this story if you haven't.

So you're still here? Read the first book? Excellent!

So hi, I'm aylithe/BlackandWhiteDragons and I finished _Empire_ nearly two years ago. Oh wow. Anyway, I was cleaning out my computer today and I found the first chapter of this which I wrote a couple of weeks after I finished _Empire_. I don't actually want this to be one of those goddamn stories of an extra powerful Shade/demon/some other dark and decrepit thing coming to screw things up and the Dragon Riders come and save everyone's arses. No, you'll see where this is going.

**THIS IS A SIDE PROJECT**. I will NOT pour my heart and soul into this, and updates could range from weeks to months apart. _The Inheritance Cycle_ is somewhat of a guilty pleasure of mine, and something which I will not avidly write fanfiction for anymore; hell, the only reason I'm doing this because the damn idea wouldn't leave me alone.

So uh, yeah. Stuff...

Enjoy?


	2. Chapter 1 -- The Nightmares

**Chapter One**

_The Nightmares_

Time had passed slowly, but the land had begun to heal finally, but there are some things that even time could not heal completely, some things which have been burned so strongly into the minds of some they cannot hope to forget, cannot dare dream of being able to wash away forever. Some horrors cannot be erased from the minds of people, they come back to haunt them weeks, months, and even years after the ordeal, and then one realises these feelings would dog them forever more, as long as they drew breath, as long as hearts beat and as long as they dream.

Eragon knew the feeling well.

His was sweating, the liquid collecting on his brow as he took in ragged gasps of breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. The nightmares had been clinging to him over the past few days, nightmares about what had happened to him in Urû'baen when he had been under the King's control. He hadn't had them for months, but now he couldn't even go to sleep, wandering around tired eyed and exhausted, afraid of what it would bring.

_Saphira? _he whispered to the darkness, but nothing stirred; she did not come to soothe his pain.

Eragon gritted his teeth. She was sound asleep and he instead searched for her telltale sounds of breathing. He could see her glittering scales reflecting the moonlight spilling from high above and through into the cave they shared, a blue mountain of diamonds slowing rising up and down to the sounds of her respiration and he took comfort in that; she hadn't been disturbed by his restlessness.

Eragon swallowed and it took a few seconds for him to realise he was gripping the sheets hard enough to crumple them so that no iron would ever be able to remove the creases. He let them go. His throat was raw as well, had he yelled, had he cried out in his sleep as shadows had grabbed at his clothes, his hair, his limbs and his sanity? The bed sheets were twisted around his legs and he furiously grabbed at them, trying to fight back the tears now stinging his eyes as he threw the things away. He was so angry at himself, he was weak. These things didn't bother Murtagh as far as he could tell, and yet he let them under his skin, and he hated that.

Eragon rose, not wearing anything apart from woollen underwear and he cross to the wall, slumping down and hugging his knees, now wide awake and he had no desire to sink back into his waking dreams. Why were these things still bothering him? It had been close to eight years ago that Galbatorix had been slain, and yet the visions didn't leave; if anything, they were stronger than ever, tales of shadows, of hideous, leering faces and dark laughs, visions full of blood, violence and undercoating that was an age all feeling that one had no trouble in recognising: fear.

He hit his fist against the wall; why couldn't he forget about those damn things?! The man was dead, he had nothing left to fear of him, nothing left to hide from and whimper in the hopes of the madman not finding him; Galbatorix, a name he dearly hated and one he would hate until his dying breath. He had seen his face tonight, laughing at Eragon as he had tried to fight against the bars of his cage, struggling to get away from the black hands grabbing at him away, back towards a leering lunatic. Even eight years on, his words to Eragon from the battle for Uru'baen were loud and clear in his mind:

_"I have no wish to fight you, and I will give you a chance to join me once again."_

He wiped his eyes angrily with the back of a hand, returning it to its previous position after shaking off the salty tears.

_"Together, we were strong; I told you of things you didn't know before..." _

_Things I hate you for, and things that should never have been disturbed._

_"...and yet you ally yourself with the people who keep secrets from you." _

_Secrets ... that was my whole world for most of my life, _he thought miserably. _The things that Garrow kept from me; Roran; Oromis; Glaedr; Brom ... Arya._

_"You didn't know who your father was for so long, and yet the people who knew the truth were your closest friends." _

_For my protection. _Eragon grit his teeth and did his best to suppress the tremble crawling up his spine.

_"I would not have kept something from you."_

"LIAR!" Eragon roared, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He'd had enough of it and his shout had disturbed Saphira.

Blinking sleepily, the great dragon opened one of her eyes and gazed at her Rider, thoughts extending to him and enveloping him in their soft, warm folds. _Little one..._

_The nightmares, _he whispered before Saphira could ask, but he knew she suspected the reason for his awakening.

She merely hummed and crawled towards him, touching his knee and laying her head down on the floor in front of him, her jaw brushing his bare toes. _Oh Eragon, oh little one, _she said softly to him, keening under her breath. _I may not be able to exorcise your demons, but I can be here to help you fight them, whether with sword, or tooth and claw._

Eragon merely smiled and rubbed her snout with his fist. _I know, _was his response. _I know._

Saphira blinked and Eragon crawled forwards, stroking her above the eyes, his arms moving forward slowly to hug her. Her scales were warm under his bare skin and his grip tightened.

_How we've changed, _he murmured softly. _Even after all these years._

_Yes. It's a part of us now, and to erase the scars would be akin to rewriting a huge part of our lives. No matter how bad it was, no matter what happened in that castle, we should do our best to forget, but not to erase them._

_Sometimes I wish I could erase it._

_I do as well, but what has happened has happened, and what we can do in the future is take steps to make sure something like this won't happen again. Agreed?_

_Yes to your every word._

Saphira hummed and shifted her wing, inviting Eragon within the dark membrane. _If I can't keep the demons out of your dreams, then I can at least keep them at bay._

Eragon rocked forwards and he crawled to Saphira's side, curling into a ball as she lowered her wing and tucked her head under it. Eragon laid his head on his snout and soon enough, he was feeling the clutches of sleep, his restlessness forgotten.

* * *

#

* * *

**A **CRASH AWOKE him the next morning and his eyes snapped open and he jumped up quickly, head smacking onto one of Saphira's wing fingers and he growled in annoyance, head throbbing. A rumbling laugh pierced the cave and Eragon stuck his head out from under Saphira's wing as he glared towards the cave entrance to their visitor, languidly laying on his back and a spark of amusement lighting in his emerald eyes.

_That was a funny sight to see, made my morning._

_You ... prick._

_Prick? _scoffed Rámir, a chuckle rising in his throat as he turned himself upright to snake along the floor towards the Rider. _Is that the best you can up with? Prick?_

_I'm thinking of some worse things, _Eragon hissed.

And he launched himself at the green dragon, placing a foot in between his nostrils and flying high as the forest green beast snapped playfully at his ankles, eyes locked on Eragon as he tumbled through the air. Rámir quickly flattened his side against the floor so Eragon landed on his forearm, scrabbling to get onto his back when Rámir in turn, laughing a stone grinding laugh, just rotated another quarter circle around so his back was flat against the floor.

_Not today, _Rámir teased, fixing Eragon in his eyes. _Today, I win._

_Not yet you haven't, _Eragon amended.

Ramir looked around as a shadow fell over him, a shadow belonging to Saphira as she crashed down on the floor behind him. The younger dragon bolted upright out of sheer fright and instinct and Eragon swung himself using Ramir's spikes and settled himself in the space on his back where his Rider usually sat.

_Today, I win, _Eragon said smugly.

_You cheated, _Ramir chuckled.

_Revenge, then, _Eragon said, _for you making me bang my head._

_Ah, but it was you who did the banging, all I did was give you a wakeup call and it was your body which jumped up therefore bringing the injury down on yourself. All I was doing was coming here to inform you that a delegate is coming in a quarter hour to see you to Orik and to see that you're ready for today. _Rámir's eye glinted as he backed himself out of the cave after Eragon had jumped down from his shoulders.

The dragon disappeared and Eragon was shaking his head, trying to suppress a smile. _He'll never grow up._

_I doubt it, _Saphira said, equally amused.

_Wait, did he say in a quarter of an hour? Fifteen minutes?_

_That he did, _Saphira said, licking one of her paws and looking at him through lidded eyes. _Better hurry up, then._

Eragon swore and ran around Saphira to where he had dumped his clothes on the floor the previous night. He yanked them on, fingers fumbling on the belt buckle and ties of his boots such was his hurry. Today, today, he'd forgotten! What with his sudden waking last night and the throbbing headache the green dragon had left him with had driven the thought out of his mind. The dragon eggs! Today was the day in the year when they would be escorted into Farthern Dûr, the giant mountain city of the dwarves, to be presented to the hopeful youths to become future Riders.

"Did you forget?"

Eragon looked up quickly, his neck cricking with the force to see a woman leaning against the cave entrance, her long, raven black hair catching the drifting currents circling around the Dragon Hold outside. She wore a heavy silken green dress that covered her feet with a belt of silver and gemstones the size of thumb nails, the metal twisted into long vines that curved around the stones and held them in place. A circlet of gold rested on her head, sloping down the back of her head and dipping a few centimetres onto her brow.

Eragon looked away, feeling sheepish and drawing the barriers around his mind tightly closed. His face began to burn.

_He did, _Saphira answered for him. She refrained from mentioning why – his nightmares from last night.

_Saphira! _Eragon groaned to her.

She merely turned her head a little towards him and winked her inner eyelid at him with a _snick_ sound.

The woman laughed and fixed her emerald eyes on Eragon who was still scrambling to find all his articles of clothing. "It doesn't matter," Arya said. "I sent Rámir to check if you were awake, but apparently ..." She left the sentence dangling and Eragon glared over her shoulder, seeing the green dragon gliding around in circles behind his Rider. He snorted in amusement, coming to land on the marble shelf the cave opened out onto, his claws clacking against the stone.

_I could hear him snoring from over here, _Rámir commented slyly as Eragon darted to Saphira's saddlebag and wrenched out a fine shirt laden with crumples. He smoothed them out with a word, grabbed the wooden plate he had eaten from last night and threw it with all his strength at Rámir. It shattered on the dragon's neck, splintered wood falling to the floor as Rámir chuckled deeply. _Was that supposed to hurt? _he asked as Eragon pulled the shirt on.

_Shut it, _Eragon snarled, pulling the shirt over his head and running his fingers through his hair. He crossed quickly to the water basin in the corner and slapped some water on his face, scrubbing it briefly before drying it with a towel. He then reached for his sapphire sword, Brisingr, and belted it on his waist.

"Eragon, please refrain from throwing things at my dragon," Arya sighed, stretching forth her hand and muttering, "Kefli." The wood sprung back together and Arya picked it up, handing to Eragon as he jogged towards her.

"Sorry," he laughed, "but don't say he didn't deserve it."

"He deserved it." Arya said, looking at Rámir out of the corner of her eye.

_Did not, _he grumbled, slouching his shoulders and giving a loud huff.

Footsteps sounded below and Eragon and Arya looked over the ledge to see a dwarf marching across the Star Sapphire set into the ground of the dragon hold, a small blot of black and brown against the sunset red of the titanic jewel. "King Orik requests your presences, Shadeslayers!" he shouted towards them.

Eragon nodded and the dwarf bowed, his beard brushing the Idisar Mithrim before turning back to go the way he had come.

_Come on, then, _Saphira said, crawling up behind Eragon and blowing his hair with a breath. Eragon turned and pulled himself up onto Saphira's bare back, crouching on her precariously as a squirrel might a tree as she fell off the edge of the cave. Arya must have laid a cloth on her back for he was sitting on one that had not been there a minute ago, deep blue satin threaded with silver. Her wings snapped open and she glided around the dragon hold, a giant room that stretched up and up and into the top of Tronjheim. Arya and Rámir followed and few seconds afterwards and Saphira burst into the light at the top. From this height, Eragon could see to either side of the gigantic cavern that hosted Tronjheim, the capital city of the dwarves. Fields stretched below, bursting with crops which would be harvested any day now. In the distance, Eragon could see a procession coming towards Tronjheim made up of around a hundred people, headed by a blood red dragon.

Saphira unleashed a roar, the power in her voice echoing in the open space and Eragon heard Thorn roar back. He extended his conscious, reaching towards the dragon and met one in the middle of the field.

_Welcome back, _Eragon said. _Atra esterní ono thelduin._

_Thank you, Eragon. _It wasn't a single voice, but rather two of them, overlaid with each other and they spoke in the same tone.

_Did anything happen, Murtagh?_

_Yes, one of the eggs hatched._

Saphira wriggled with this news, her scales shimmering in the weak sunlight coming from miles above and she flapped hurried towards the party, alighting half a minute later in front of Thorn.

The red dragon raised his wings and jogged forwards, sniffing Saphira and nuzzling her affectionately. The both of them were bursting with pride. Whatever had happened between them eight years ago in Urû'baen, the eggs the two of them had conceived were the only ones Saphira had clutched. She hadn't wanted to lay eggs again in the meanwhile, but she assured Eragon that she would do so one day in the future, but it wasn't going to be for a long time.

Thorn was slightly bigger than Saphira, his tail maybe a foot or so longer, despite Saphira being nearly half a year older than him. He had grown since the last six months Eragon and Saphira had seen him, his shoulder height reaching to that roughly equal of a barn door and his head the height of the arc of a trebuchet. The wing membrane that stretched in between each of the wing fingers had tears in them, wounds that had healed over years ago and weren't worth bothering about anymore since their full recovery. Evidence of huge claw marks stretched around his back and ribs in subtle scars which were invisible unless one looked closely at them, remnants of Galbatorix's huge black dragon, Shruikan, who had crushed Thorn around the middle during the Battle for Urû'baen.

Images were flashing between the two dragon's minds that Eragon wasn't especially following, because he was looking past Thorn to the man seated on the dragon's back. Murtagh looked exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes and his head was drooping slightly to one side. His clothes were travel worn and he looked like he wanted nothing more than a hot bath, a meal, and a soft bed to crawl into. His ears were gaining the points that Eragon's had at the Blood-Oath Celebration on his first trip Ellesméra, and his jaw line was beginning to taper a bit.

"Tired?" Eragon asked.

Murtagh nodded. "Aye, and as soon as we get this ceremony over and done with, the better. I'm tired, the soldiers are tired, and the kids are, too."

_The new dragon and Rider..._

"Can I see them?" Eragon asked.

Murtagh nodded and the two of them dismounted, walking towards each other and slapping each other on the shoulders before making their way down the train.

"They're sleeping at the moment," Murtagh murmured.

"We'll have to wake them soon, anyway," Eragon said back in a low voice.

"I know, but we should let them have their rest while we can."

Near the middle of the party, there was a caravan pulled by eight draught horses, each of them, shifting their weight around nervously with the arrival of Saphira. They entered the wooden structure and directly opposite them was a huge chest of iron and steel, locked by chains and spells. Inside of it were five dragon eggs. Once, there had been six, but on a cot on the left of the chest were two small bodies. One was a boy with scraggly back hair and a pile of freckles on his nose. He was human, and Eragon could see how thin he was under his shirt, pulled up slightly exposing his side; Eragon could see the imprint of ribs rising and falling to the sound of his breathing. Curled up beside him was a shining silver dragon about four feet long, its nostrils smoking.

"He was chosen by her about six weeks ago in a settlement near the foot of the mountains in Surda," Murtagh informed. "She hatched three weeks ago when we were following the Beartooth."

Eragon crouched next to them, studying the figures. The boy was pale, but he looked peaceful in his dreamland, one arm tightly around the dragon that in turn had her tail wrapped tightly around his leg. She was humming slightly.

_Eragon, _Saphira whispered to him. _May I see?_

Eragon opened his mind to Saphira and her felt a rush of joy and love emanating from her in way he had only felt from her towards himself. Her child; this was _her _child. That small dragon snuggled into the boy's side was of her making. She crooned and jogged towards the carriage, startling the horses and they neighed in fright. Eragon stood suddenly as the caravan moved and the boy woke with a start, amber brown eyes looking around. The dragon woke too, sniffing the air and she started squeaking in excitement.

"Hey," he said, stroking her. "Shush, shush." He looked around and spotted Eragon staring at him intently and drew backwards, eyes wide. "Shadeslayer ... Argetlam ... I-I-I'm sorry, I—"

Eragon chuckled and shook his head. "No, don't worry. Calm down. Saphira is just coming now, and the horses were startled."

"You mean her mother?" the boy asked, patting the dragon.

Eragon nodded. "She's very keen to meet her."

The boy nodded and he got up, taking one of the blankets on the bed with him and wrapping it around his shoulders. The dragon jumped onto his shoulder, resting it's head on his and wrapping her tail around his torso, riding on his back like a sloth, back claws tucked into his pants. Saphira's eye pressed up against the caravan door and the dragon squeaked, extending her wings and fluttering towards Saphira, landing on the floor and pressing her feet to Saphira's snout. Saphira crooned at the dragon and then the silvery dragon sprung into the air, circling Saphira's head. Saphira blew small jets of steam at the dragon whom dived in and out of them playfully.

"What's your name?" Eragon said, looking towards the boy who was watching the dragons with awe.

He looked at Eragon quickly before casting his gaze to the floor. "Aire, sir, Aire Arurnsson. My dragon doesn't have a name yet, dunno what to call her."

"The right name will come with time," Eragon assured him.

Silence fell. Murtagh exited, muttering that he should get back to the front of the line so they could proceed in time and, soon after he had gone, they started moving again. Saphira jumped into the air and the dragon followed, flying around Saphira's head in circles, chittering all the while. Saphira glided at a leisurely pace a few hundred feet above them.

"When will I able to fly with her?" Aire asked suddenly.

Eragon looked at him in surprise. "Flying doesn't scare you?"

Aire shuffled his feet. "It does," he murmured. "'cause my family live so near the Beors, I feel like they'll fall on me sometimes because they're so tall, and I don't want to fall."

"How old are you?" Eragon inquired.

"Thirteen."

"And are you from a farming family?"

"No, my father's a silversmith."

"Do you have any family apart from your mother and father?"

"Two older sisters."

"Do you miss them already?"

Aire paused and then nodded. "How long will I be away from home?"

Eragon looked away. "A while," he said.

Aire looked towards him, head tilted to the side at an angle that suggested he was warming to Eragon somewhat. His gaze fell onto Brisingr and his eyes glittered. "Is that the sword you killed Galbatorix with?" he asked quickly.

Eragon glanced down at Brisingr in an amused fashion. "Yes. I drove it through his heart."

"You were seventeen when you did that, right?!" Aire asked excitedly.

"Aye, and I was nearly dead when I did so," Eragon confirmed.

"And did you kill Shruikan, too?" Aire clamoured.

Eragon paused here; Shruikan had died because his Heart of Hearts, his Eldunarí, had shattered. He couldn't tell Aire the real way Shruikan had died. He shook his head. "Murtagh killed him."

Aire's eyes widened. "Did he stab him?"

"He killed him with very powerful magic."

"When will I get to learn magic?"

"Not for a long time to come."

* * *

#

* * *

**THE **JOURNEY TOOK another forty minutes or so and by the gates of Tronjheim, Arya and Rámir were waiting. Rámir had a cloth of fine felt with threaded gold on his back like the one Saphira wore, Arya sitting atop him and Eragon jumped down from the caravan, Saphira landed a little way behind him and the dragon flew back to Aire, purring with happiness.

"One of the eggs hatched?" Arya asked delightedly.

"The silver one," Eragon said. "It's a girl, and she's but a few weeks old."

He gestured behind him to Aire who had stopped in his tracks, looking at Arya and the formidable dragon behind her. He seemed lost for words, unsure as to whether Tronjheim or Arya herself or even Rámir deserved the most attention. The silver dragon was clutched in his arms, legs and tail hanging down to his feet and looking like a large and happy cat, eyes half lidded and a pure coming from deep within her throat.

"Come," Arya said, turning on her heel and striding gracefully towards the giant gates of Tronjheim, "Orik is waiting for you four."

Eragon nodded and Saphira walked over to him, nudging him gently before he climbed onto the crest between her shoulders. Aire was watching him as Saphira shook her head and wings before glancing one more time at him and the silver dragon before she and the other two older dragons with their Riders on their backs entered the huge city gates. Rámir swung his head around to sniff at the silver dragon. She went completely still, gazing up into the green dragon's eyes. Saphira let out a soft growl of warning.

_You honestly think I would eat her or something? _Rámir asked, amused. _Too scrawny._

_I can honestly say you were much scrawnier when you hatched, judging from Arya's memories, _Saphira sniffed.

_Yeah, but I was underfed. I was born into a war, Saphira._

_And I was born into a house full of a week's worth of food, _she shot back.

_Bet you were pretty bony when you hatched, too, _Rámir said slyly.

Saphira raised her wings half threateningly, but she stopped as she caught her hatchling's eye and settled for saying briskly, _I will settle this with you later, Rámir._

_I look forward to it, _he replied dryly.

* * *

**So before everyone starts yelling at me about the fact Aire is human and a guy, I just want to say I want this new Rider to be an inexperienced little shit, so everyone shut your pie holes. **

**I also think a clutch of six eggs is reasonable, and we need more girl dragons, mmkay? Good. **

**BWD is back in the house, bitches. **


End file.
